


lay us down

by endofadream



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, SO MUCH FLUFF, brief mentions of period-typical homophobia, bucky barnes loves steve rogers okay, like honestly the fluff might kill you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7429023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know why I love you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	lay us down

**Author's Note:**

> inspired mostly in part from [this](http://tsumi-noaru.tumblr.com/post/126171058599/belated-b-day-present-for-ohsweetcrepes-who-has) gorgeous work of art. go give the artist some love! title taken from "the end of all things" by panic! at the disco, because that song is so them that i want to cry.

Moments like these, Steve appreciates his heart hammering in his chest. It isn't his usual arrhythmia, isn’t an asthma attack or any other one of his numerous ailments. It’s his body coming down, skin still flushed, arousal abating little by little as he flops back onto the sheets and burrows into the pillow.

He draws the sheets over his waist and receives a snort from Bucky’s direction, and without looking he says, “Shut up, will ya? I get cold.”

He expects a rib, but doesn’t get one. Silence falls over them instead, broken only by the faint noises of life from the street below, muted now that autumn’s begun to show its colors and the air is just on this side of too crisp. Steve closes his eyes and hugs the pillow closer.

“You know why I love you?”

It’s quiet, but almost seems too loud. Steve looks over, head lolling on the pillow as he squints in Bucky’s direction. The late evening does little to illuminate their room, but neither want to get up to turn on the light. As it is, he can still make out the outline and most of Bucky, shirtless, propped against the headboard with the sheets falling dangerously low on his bare waist. It makes Steve’s tired body ache to get close again.

“Because you can get suckjobs out of me on the regular?” Steve mumbles, turning his face back into the pillow. He snorts at the sharp slap of Bucky’s hand on his shoulder, lifting his head from the musty cloth. “Okay, okay. I’ll bite. Why do you love me, Buck? Is it ‘cause I’m pretty?”

“You little punk,” Bucky says, but it’s not without affection. Steve isn't sure why that’s what makes him flush, given what they’d just been doing, but it does. Maybe it’s the fact that Bucky doesn't open up much, if ever, about what _they_ are. What all of this means, because it’s safer that way. And Steve understands: no one can know, not if they don't want to get beat up—or worse, go to jail. They just let it happen, ride in its wake and greedily soak in the happiness.

“‘Course you’re pretty,” Bucky’s saying, “but that ain’t why I love you.”

Steve waits a beat, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Instead of words Steve gets the barely-there brush of Bucky’s fingers over the bare skin of his shoulder. He shivers, gooseflesh rising to the surface, and squeezes his eyes shut, tugging the pillow closer to him. The things Bucky’s touch does to him.

“You’re just so…” Bucky trails off, fingers running from the knob of Steve’s shoulder to the curve of his elbow down his forearm. The skin in their wake burns red-hot. “I ain’t never met anyone like you.”

“Yeah?” Steve would be embarrassed at how breathy his voice sounds if he could find it in himself to care. This is what Bucky does to him; this is how much Bucky makes him _feel_. And in a grayscale world of illness and poverty, Steve latches onto everything that takes him away from that, even if it’s just for a second. No one had ever given Steve Rogers a second glance until Bucky Barnes.

Bucky makes a noise of assent, letting his hand drop away. “Never met such a firecracker in my life”—Steve laughs, and Bucky shushes him—“I _haven’t_. I love the way you crackle when you’re angry.”

“‘m always angry,” Steve says, and it’s Bucky’s turn to laugh.

“Yeah, pal. You are. And that’s another thing I love about you. You let the world know what it’s done to piss Steve Rogers off today.”

Steve has an indignant response ready, but it comes out as a squeak when Bucky leans over and presses his lips to Steve’s neck, soft and brief and a little damp. “Love your sweet summer freckles,” Bucky says, muffled against Steve’s skin. Never mind that it’s nearing October and Steve’s freckles are year-round, thank you very much. Still, it doesn't abate the shiver that runs the length of Steve’s body, down to his toes curling beneath the sheets, when Bucky kisses the width of his shoulders, paying special attention to the ball of each.

Then he’s being gently rolled over, sheet twisting around him, blinking up in the dim light to find the glint of Bucky’s eyes bright above him. It catches his breath in his chest. Makes him want to draw Bucky closer, press him to his skin until they melt into one the way they should be, filling in each other’s negative spaces.

“Love how you look right after I’m done fucking you,” Bucky murmurs. “How soft and pretty you are.” It zings through Steve’s body, neuron-fast, and he’s biting back a moan as he feels his cock begin to stir already. Bucky notices, eyes growing wide. “God, Stevie. You got no idea how good you look when you come.”

_Not as good as you_ Steve wants to say, but for once he keeps his trap shut, looks up at Bucky with wide eyes. _How do I look?_ he almost says. _Tell me. Tell me everything that you see, Buck._

“Love how smart you are,” Bucky says. “Love how goddamn talented you are.”

“Buck—”

Bucky shuts him up with a kiss, and Steve arches into it eagerly, slides his fingers through the hair at the back of Bucky’s head, pomade waxy against his skin. Bucky’s hard again, too, cock hot where it presses against Steve’s thigh through the thin sheet. Steve wants it in his mouth, in his hand, _goddamn_ , wherever he can get it, but when he whimpers and tries to wriggle free to grasp it, Bucky wrangles his wrist in his big hand and pins it down above his head.

“Not yet,” he pants, and even through the evening turning rapidly into dusk outside their window Steve can see how big Bucky’s pupils are. He knows that look. He _loves_ that look.

“Please,” Steve tries, but Bucky shakes his head and flexes his hand on Steve’s wrist, like he’s checking his grip.

“Christ,” Bucky says, and he sounds _wrecked_. “Love how you sound when you beg, Stevie. Sound so goddamn pretty, sweetheart, all breathless and desperate for me. Want me to fuck you again, huh? Love how you look on my cock, baby doll, swear there’s nothin’ better.”

Lust shoots so fast through Steve that he’s left dizzy with it, gasping for breaths that won’t fill his lungs. “Buck—yes, yes, _please_ ,” he babbles, struggling against Bucky’s hold, the sheet slipping further down his waist until the cool air of the room hits his hard cock and he shivers.

“Yeah?” murmurs Bucky. He finally lets go of Steve’s wrist, takes the sheet in both hands and tugs it down and off. His palms are broad and warm on the smooth insides of Steve’s thighs as he spreads them. “Love how greedy you are, sweetheart.” He runs his palms up and down, digging his nails in to leave stinging trails, and Steve moans. “You look real good spread out like this. Like a picture, just for me.” He puts his hands around Steve’s hips, slides them up the curve of his torso to fit his fingers in the faint ridges around his ribs. “Better’n any damn Tijuana bible I’ve ever seen.”

“More,” Steve begs, squirming. Skin hot, blushing. He’s hot and cold all at once, shivering fine little tremors up and down his body under Bucky’s hawk-like gaze and dirty honeyed words: Buck’s got a mouth like no other, and he knows how much it riles Steve up. Never mind how damn _good_ it feels to hear Buck talk him up like this, like he’s something special instead of something small and scrappy. “Turn on the light—”

The bed shifts, there’s a click, and Steve squints at the pale yellow of the light before his eyes adjust. Bucky kisses him, slow and deep and wet, and Steve lets himself be carried on it, thumb stroking over Bucky’s cheekbone, tongue licking at the seam of Bucky’s mouth before slipping in.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Bucky says against Steve’s lips, breath damp as he moves to kiss Steve’s chin. He begins to slide his hand downward, down Steve’s chest and the dip of his belly, as he presses his lips to Steve’s again. “Love that, too, always will… _god, baby_ —”

He’s still open enough that Bucky can fit two fingers in without a problem, Steve sucking in a breath as they sink in to the second knuckle and Bucky slowly spreads them, crooking and working them out, then back in, steady. The sound is slick and filthy and it heats Steve’s cheeks and makes him want more.

“Get the slick,” Steve pants, and he’s biting his lip against a needy sound as Bucky finds that spot in him that makes him see goddamn _stars_ it’s so good. His cock jumps on his belly, drooling pre-come. “Jesus, Buck, ain’t neither of us gettin’ any younger.”

“Love how impatient you are,” Bucky teases, sharp grin and cock of the head. Steve socks him in the arm for good measure and Bucky laughs and stares down at Steve with something in his eyes that Steve can’t quite fathom the enormity of, just that he feels it, too, heat in the pit of his stomach and in his heart overflowing until he’s positively molten with it.

“Only ‘cause you’re always teasin’ me,” Steve grouses, rolling his hips against the next thrust of Bucky’s fingers, head turned to the side as his eyes slide shut. It seems to spur Bucky into action and he’s twisting, reaching for the Vaseline on their nightstand. Steve looks, then, lifting up onto his elbows: the light throws every curve and ridge of hard muscle on Bucky’s body into shadow. It catches on the purple marks on his hips and his chest, the red lines left by Steve’s nails and indents left by his teeth. The sight stirs possessiveness, searing and overwhelming, in Steve’s chest.

“You’re too fun to tease,” says Bucky, turning around and dropping the small jar onto the bed. And Steve has a retort for that, he really does, but three of Bucky’s slick fingers are pressing in and Steve is gasping instead, arching up and grabbing at Bucky’s thigh.

Like he’s read his mind Bucky says, cocksure and low, “Ain’t got a retort for that?” and pegs that spot again. Steve lets out a noise that Bucky cuts off with his mouth, a murmured, “Shh, doll, gotta keep it quiet.”

“Just put it in me.” Steve nips at Bucky’s lower lip, tugs on it just to hear him groan, and slings an arm around the back of Bucky’s neck. His panting breaths get lost in the slick, musky-smelling curve of Bucky’s neck, cologne almost chased away by their spunk and the scent of the city itself. “Christ, Buck, c’mon already. You got another rubber?”

“‘Course I got another rubber.” Bucky produces the packet and rolls his eyes, though the smile never falters, even when he deliberately doesn’t look away as he slides it on. “Now on your side,” he says, nuzzling at the underside of Steve’s chin before he’s gently tugging him over, and oh. _Oh_. Bucky settles behind him and urges Steve’s leg up. The knuckles of his other hand press against the small of Steve’s back as Bucky slicks his cock up and guides it, blunt head rubbing up and down the crack of Steve’s ass. Steve shivers, moans, tilts his head to the side and reaches an arm back to cup Bucky’s head as Bucky ducks to nip at Steve’s neck.

“Fuck,” Steve groans, bitten-off through his teeth. Bucky finds the stretch of Steve’s hole and begins to sink in, slow. The fullness, the slight burn, are familiar, leave Steve groaning again in relief as Bucky bottoms out, his hips pressing flush against Steve’s ass.

Bucky’s hand flattens over Steve’s belly, breath hot against the nape of his neck as he moans, quiet, and murmurs, “Never gets old, does it?”

Nothing ever gets old with them. Every time feels like the first, even when it’s rushed suckjobs or hand-jobs in between work and Steve’s art classes. Whether it’s the third time or the hundredth time, Steve never tires of being the one to make Bucky moan and tremble under him. Never stops loving the way that Bucky always bites his lip right before he comes, forehead creased and head tipped back. Never stops wanting Bucky in a way that’s as instinctive as breathing.

“Love how you feel,” Bucky breathes as he begins to move, little shallow thrusts of his hips that make Steve’s thighs tremble. His head falls back again and Bucky scrapes his teeth over Steve’s throat, sucking lightly to leave marks that will fade by morning. “Wish I could stay inside you forever.”

“That’s impractical,” Steve quips, breathless, arching back as Bucky draws out. Their skin meets with a muted, slick sound, and Steve laughs as Bucky gives him a sharp nip on the meat of his shoulder. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get for trying to ruin my romantic moment.” Bucky’s thrusts quicken and Steve loses any smart remark that he may have had in favor of letting himself succumb to the pleasure burning hot in his gut. He moans instead, kissing Bucky sloppy, too much tongue and panted breath. He fumbles for Bucky’s hand where it’s resting on the concave of his stomach and guides it to his cock, curling their fingers around it and jerking forward in relief. Bucky huffs out a laugh, sucks on Steve’s tongue before he’s saying, “There you are, baby doll. All you needed to do was ask.” Steve’s hand drops and Bucky strokes him, firm, teasing his foreskin and covering Steve’s mouth with his again when Steve lets out a jagged cry.

“More,” Steve says, pinched. “Tell me more, Buck.”  
  
“You want more?” Bucky rolls his hips forward once, twice, sharp thrusts used to punctuate his words. “Want me to tell you how much I love your eyes? Your lips? How much I love the way your hair looks when the sun catches it just right?” A few fingers under Steve’s chin and he goes, the kiss little more than panted breaths and slick tongues. They part and Bucky fucks forward, gasps, “Want me to tell you how goddamn far gone I am on you, so deep it’s like I’ll never get out? How I’m okay with that, how I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now but here?”

“Oh,” Steve gasps, thighs straining as he tries to urge Bucky deeper, “fuck, oh _fuck.”_

Bucky continues: “How much I love you?” And Steve lets out a tiny sob, grabbing at Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky buries his face in the curve of Steve’s neck. “I love you so much, Stevie. It’s like I’m fuckin’ drowning.” He slows, rocks deep and steady into Steve, and it makes Steve feel like he’s burning from the inside out, pleasure so sharp and bright he feels consumed by it.

Steve moans when Bucky drops a kiss to the hinge of his jaw and hopes it conveys _fuck me fuck me fuck me_. Hopes it conveys the thousands of other things that he wants to say— _I love you, I need you, you’re everything to me_ —but can’t as Bucky flips them again, seamless with practice. Steve precariously straddling his hips, finding his bearings and balance, one hand on Bucky’s sweat-slick chest, the other guiding Bucky’s cock back to the loose stretch of his hole. Steve sinks down, groaning, his hips working in slow, obscene circles on Bucky’s lap.

He ducks and Bucky surges up to meet him halfway, tangling his fingers through Steve’s hair. Underneath his palm Bucky’s heart beats a fast rhythm. Steve matches his thrusts to it, leans his weight forward and bears down, lifts up, encourages the shaky rise of Bucky’s hips as he fucks up into him.

“Oh Jesus and Mary,” Bucky swears, and Steve near full-on laughs, a little hysterical, at the thought of Bucky’s ma hearing him swear like that. Broad hands clutch his hips, work-roughened palms squeezing when Steve arches, drops down, cock slapping wetly on the heaving ridges of Bucky’s abs.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” Bucky rasps, lower lip disappearing between his teeth. “You gonna come for me? Gonna touch your pretty cock and come all over me, sweetheart?”

It hits Steve right in the gut; he’s been riding the knife’s-edge of orgasm and hearing the cajoling desperation in Bucky’s voice, seeing the way that he looks up, eyes wide and awed, so dark that blue is only a thin sliver of color, tips him over so fast he’s crying out, loud and high and sharp, before he can stop himself. His fingers barely close around his cock and he’s coming, bone-deep, shuddering with every pulse that streaks out on Bucky’s belly, sliding slick and hot down his own fingers. Feels wrung-out through the aftershocks, chilled static settling in just under his skin.

Bucky’s hands have gone tight, fingers digging in, and Steve whimpers, bracing his weight on the wall as Bucky begins to fuck up into him, frenetic, eyes half-closed and jaw slack when he finally comes. Steve eggs him on, “Yeah, yeah, fuck me, c’mon, Buck,” and his name is a thin, wheedling thing on Bucky’s lips, tapering off into a wordless cry when Steve presses their mouths together, fingers hooked on the hinge of Bucky’s jaw. Bucky’s hands grip tight to Steve’s shoulders.

“I love you,” Steve says, brushing his nose against Bucky’s before kissing him again. “Love you so much, Buck.”

“You make me crazy.” The words are quiet, intimate, Bucky’s mouth following them as he kisses down Steve’s neck. Steve hisses through his teeth as Bucky slides out, pressing lazy kisses to his forehead and the damp hair at his temples as Bucky slides off the condom and ties it up, tossing it to the floor.

Steve slides off Bucky’s lap to sprawl next to him, then, one thin leg hooked over the hard muscle of Bucky’s thigh. His fingers trace a mark on Bucky’s chest, just above his nipple; there’s another one on his shoulder, high enough to be hidden by Bucky’s sleeves, but even still, Bucky’s reputation with the dames precedes him.

Bucky hums, low in his throat, and fits his hand over Steve’s, tangling their fingers. “Remember that time you gave me that mark on my neck and I had no way of covering it up?”

Steve suppresses his giggle in the warm skin of Bucky’s shoulder. “And all the guys at the docks asked you if you liked the gals feisty?”

“Wanted to tell them that it was all because of my fella. Small like a gal but nowhere near as delicate. A firecracker, though, for sure.”

Steve feels a surge of affection. “Yeah?”

Bucky lifts their hands to his mouth, kisses the back of Steve’s. “Yeah. I’d tell the whole world if I could.”

It’s a thought, a world where the two of them didn't have to hide. Where they didn't have to be quiet even in their own apartment. Where Steve could kiss Bucky goodbye in the mornings in the stoop instead of in their apartment.

“As long as I have you, I don’t care who knows,” Steve says.

Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders and tugs him closer. “I ain’t going anywhere, Stevie. I promise.”

Steve presses his face against Bucky’s chest and closes his eyes. He counts Bucky’s heartbeats. Squeezes his fingers in Bucky’s, hands resting on the jut of Bucky’s collarbone.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is [here](https://endofadream.tumblr.com) and instagram is [here](https://instagram.com/wintersoldiered), if you’re into that sort of thing.


End file.
